The View from the Other Side..........
Usually, an excursion to London for me means a family sightseeing tour warranting flat, comfortable walking shoes, clothes for all weathers and a picnic-filled rucksack. An invitation from the Queen, to attend a garden party at Buckingham Palace, therefore called for a whole new rethink, careful strategic planning and of course, a shopping trip! The garden party trip was a celebration in recognition of Mortimer Village Partnership (MVP) being awarded The Queen’s Award for Voluntary Service - the MBE for voluntary groups! Two representatives of the MVP could attend and circumstances were such that Rebecca Barker's and my name were the lucky ones drawn out of the hat (the 'hat', I believe, was in actual fact a plastic bag!).
On the morning of the event life started as usual but gradually descended into a manic furore of flying garments, make up and “WHERE'S MY PASSPORT?” - a security essential requirement to ensure entrance to the Palace. Finally, dressed in my finery and having wrestled my ears and hat into an acceptable position, I felt as though I was the Queen herself. “You may call me Ma'am as in ham” I said to the family and “Curtsey while you're thinking what to say. It saves time”. Yeah right, as if that was going to happen! Ignoring my regal airs and graces the most they promised was to walk the “Corgi” in my absence and sort themselves out with tea should I not be back in time.
On first receipt, I had scoured the invite to see what time Her Majesty would be sending one of her horse and carriages to collect me and Mrs B. Reality quickly set in and come the day, the only carriage we saw the inside of, was one two down from the buffet car on the 14:02 to Paddington. Trying to remain inconspicuous on the tube proved fruitless, our attire attracting curious sideways glances and little knowing smiles.
On arrival at Buckingham Palace we quickly passed through security, the inner courtyard and a tiny part of the Palace itself, to emerge on the terrace above Her Majesty's back garden. We were faced with a sea of hats and, no longer feeling out of place, observed the crowds, already eight or nine deep, lining the walkways where by the Royal party would pass. A little unsure as to the correct protocol and slightly perturbed by a menacing black cloud, hovering with intent to the right, we decided that the best option was to head for tea. The tea tent was as long as the eye could see. It contained little 'food stations' every three meters or so at which Her Majesty's loyal subjects politely queued for buffet style nibbles and liquid refreshments. We had almost reached the top of the queue when, as if by magic and in unison, the tea staff stopped what they were doing, took a step back and stood respectively in a row. At that moment, one of the two bands struck up the National Anthem and the Royal party appeared on the terrace. As they negotiated the steps towards the waiting crowd, in true British fashion, the heavens opened and the threatening black cloud did its worst. The sea of hats became a sea of umbrellas.
As the rain overhead got heavier and heavier, we remained in the tea tent enjoying the Royal brew and sampling the Queen's finger foods – heaven knows what time she had had to get up to cater for nearly 8000 guests! Eventually, as brighter skies appeared, we braved the final spits and spots and made our way to the still-waiting crowds. Still several rows back and still not entirely sure what we were doing, we suddenly caught a glimpse of the Queen's lemon hat and most memorably, her left ear! Prince Philip followed and being slightly taller than his wife, was much easier to see. As our hosts disappeared into the Royal tea tent, we joined the hoi polloi and explored the extensive gardens.
By now, not used to wearing such ladylike shoes for any length of time, our feet, to coin a phrase, 'were killing us'. Not only were the shoes pinching but Rebecca had had to take to walking on her tip toes to try and prevent her heels from sinking into and aerating the Queen's sodden lawn – why, oh why had we not worn our flat, comfortable walking shoes? Despite the hobbling – of which we were two of many - we couldn't fail to be amazed by the size and beauty of the gardens – a true oasis in the middle of a bustling city of which the hum of the traffic, just a stone’s throw away on the other side of the wall, was a constant reminder.
Making our way back to the main throng, people were once again queuing. Determined not to miss out on this occasion, we stood four deep and patiently waited for the Royal party to finish their tea and make their exit. At a regal pace the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall, the Earl and the Countess of Wessex and the Duke of Kent walked by leaving in their wake a trail of admiring public.
All too soon we were leaving the inner sanctum of the garden ourselves, following the crowds back towards the exits. As we retraced our steps through the tiny part of the Palace we thought that we could once again hear the sound of heavy rain but, as it turned out, it was the sound of hundreds of pairs of shoes, scrunching on the gravel of the courtyard, as they were making their way to the foreground of the Palace, out beneath the famous balcony.
Up until the garden party, my lasting memory of Buckingham Palace had been that of my son, then aged nine, with his head stuck in its railings. Now however, thanks to Mortimer and its fantastic volunteers, Rebecca and I have been fortunate enough to have seen the view from the other side.
Lynn Hannawin